But the plain generally was hot and sunny in summer, and very dreary in winter; for the larger trees which grew upon it were oaks, and when they were bare of foliage, and the sand-hills and the pools had a deep covering of snow, the wind swept icily cold over its wide space.

In September the oaks were still in leaf, and the grass green, and, though they were but stunted in size and coarse in texture, both were pleasant to look at.
The sunshine was no longer hot, but it was serenely bright, and there was as lovely a blue overhead as if the equinox were months away.
A light waggon came winding in and out with the turnings of the road--now crossing a wooden bridge, now passing through the shadows of a dozen or more oaks which grew close together.

Sometimes, when the ground was clear, the waggon went straight through one of these groups.
Sometimes it turned aside, to avoid the thick brushwood underneath.

The "waggon," which was neither more nor less than a large tray placed upon four wheels, and having a seat for two people, was occupied by two young men, Harry Scott and George Anderson.

They were coming down from their homes, two farms which lay close together some little distance up the lake, and were going first to the sawmill and then to the town.